Marvelous
by KnittedHat
Summary: Catherine Kitt was far from mild and everyone knew it. After busting through her daddy's money and finally graduating college, she is stuck with a degree and a need to escape. That is until Director Nick Fury approaches her with just what she wanted, an escape. But what if she has her own agenda? Tony Stark/OC Rated M for future chapters!
1. Chapter 1

"Watch it," Catherine seethed feeling the sting of pulled skin. The boy behind her was either too drunk or too inexperienced to properly take her dress off, she was voting on the latter. Catherine could feel his shaky hands rattling the zipper threaded to the orange fabric of her dress. If he continued in this manner he would be buying her a new dress. It took him several deep breaths before he regained some composure and managed successfully to unzip the cloth, enjoying the wiggle of Catherine's hips as she shimmed out of the cloth.

The burning lust torched his body as he watched her step out of her heels. Grabbing her arm he turned her in his direction, placing a sloppy, open mouthed kiss on her lips. His eyes were shut tight as his hand snaked around to the back of her neck; the other pulled her pelvis closer to his aching appendage.

To be completely honest, she hadn't a clue what this man's name was and she really didn't mind. His bedside manner was reeking of what she was positive was very low experience and his kisses tasted like bravado only alcohol could give. He was attractive, of course, she never brought a man home who wasn't. With his nice jawline and sandy blonde hair, he could find a girl easy, but he wasn't worth a her call back. He was just a play thing for the night.

Catherine's fingers skillfully glided down the front of his silk button up, leaving a trail of skin where she passed. She rested her fingertips on his clavicle and lightly brushed down the exposed skin to his abdomen. Replacing his hands on her hips the feverish kiss broke, taking her opportunity she slipped her nimble fingers to the buckle of the brown suede belt. She pulled released the belt of duty with a precise ease, taking note of the clicking of metal falling in time with the panting escaping his mouth. He ungracefully kicked himself out of his boxers before looking down at Catherine, hot lust in his eyes.

Killing the break, he crashed his lips back down to her's, beginning a reenactment of a dog gnawing on a bone. She wasn't sure if he noticed she was unresponsive to his kisses, but the way his lips moved she would bet he was blissfully unaware. Sliding her hands up his mediocre biceps she grasped both sides of his expensive shirt and pushed it gracefully to the floor. His kiss became harder and more persistent, but all the same too weak for her really to care

Growing tired of standing in front of her bed she swiftly turned them and pushed him down on the mattress. An inner tisk echoing in her mind at her ability to. He smiled wide as she straddled him, running his hands up her sides. She rolled her eyes before noticing his loafers on her Burberry jacket.

As expected he rolled them over in an attempt to gain some control. What she was guessing he picked up in a porno he started placing kisses down her neck and to the strap of her bra. He hooked a finger around the strap and pulled it a little lower down before continuing with the poorly placed kisses.

Catherine was starting to question why she was even going through with this as he had proven he was a drunk virgin. Although he had fought the good fight he had yet to turn her on by a sliver. Just as she was about to open her mouth to ask him to stop he lifted himself from over top her and crouched in front of his discarded pants. Fishing around in his pocket he soon pulled a small foil packet.

Holding it between his pointer and middle fingers he crawled back on top of her, bracing himself with one hand as he attempted to open the condom with his teeth. However, before he was able to rip open the foil, Catherine caught sight of familiar, shiny logo.

Stark Industries.

Balling her fists in the sheets she turned her attention from the packet to the struggling man above her.

"Get out," She hissed, thrusting her left hand to point to the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Catherine let out an aggravated sigh, letting her head fall to her desk. This was the fifth denied job application since her graduation almost a year ago. Out of the handful of jobs that actually needed a physicist within their grasp, not a single one had asked to interview Catherine. At this point she was so close to quiting she had her cursor placed over the "Delete" button on her resume.

She wasn't sure if it was because of her almost clear job history or her reputation. Yes, she had worked for her father while in college, but almost anyone could tell it wasn't a job at all. If the piles of back rent she owed wasn't enough evidence, you could flip to what was supposed to be page six in the paper and read the piece on her non-existent paychecks. [However, she noticed, it was actually page ten.]

You could pick up any tabloid magazine within a fifty mile radius of the city and see stories of her. Her father was a big name, owning a more than decently sized company whose primary feats dabbled along the line of "science research." Anything that provided a research facility to the universities was worthy of scrunity and out of her pristine family, she would be the target.

It wasn't a surprise when her adolescene landed her in a not-so-favorable position with her father. He loved her more than anything, maybe even more than her siblings, but her rowdy behavior left him with no other option than to suspend her allowance and place her as coffee girl for the fifteenth floor.

Looking back now she realized he was more than obligated for what he had done, even if she was facing eviction, school loans, and denied application after denied application. If she had been her brother or any of her two sisters she wouldn't be in this position. VPs would gladly hand their positions to her if she was Cole. If it wasn't the Gardy Cole Kitt Jr. that sold it, a look at his record would leave them begging. Graduating with a 4.0 and Valedictorian of his graduating class of Yale, Cole was a fucking gift to the economic world. However, he set side his dreams and has since spent his time preparing for the "family bussiness" to fall into his hands.

Or of course if Catherine was Megan she wouldn't have to worry about a damn thing at all. Married at nineteen, she went on to have absolutely perfect kids with Dad's VP. Catherine shuddered at the memory of her odd thirteen year old body shoved into the awful, green tafeta Flower girl gown.

Then of course she could be Tiffany. The press had a field day when one of Dad's commitee members confirmed his engagement to her sixteen-year-old sister, but finding nothing truly scandalous they soon gave up on the story. It was apparent that the only two people even remotely upset at the engagement was Catherine and Cole. Of course her father had been angry in the beginning, but his opinion mattered not to her sisters and mother and eventually not to him. What was to worry about? She was marrying into money anyway, right?

That seemed to be all her family had grown to care about, and she sadly had too. Money was the sustanence to their lives. Everything was about getting more and more money, and Catherine was making that hard on them with her escapades.

Having completely beat Cole's own engagement announcement from the front page there was now a running story on New York's Most Unwanted Bachalorette. The article itself was so large it had taken up the A section of the news paper. And woven through the words was her complete public profile, from her first front page spread at fifteen with a dance from a "friendly" Marine to her most recently notable hospitilatzation after an allergic reaction to the Morning After Pill.

But they had neglected to mention that her hospitalization was almost two years ago and was a college mistake. There wasn't even an article on her graduation from college, no notice of the starting of an alphabet after her name. Not a single damn mention of her Ph.D. Not a single mention of the one thing she's done right in the past four years.

She gritted her teeth, reminding herself that the paper had better things to write about, like lies, a bias to whatever political party they sided with, or the personal lives of the "first class."

Or Iron Man.

Always fucking Iron Man.


End file.
